Negus: Through the past brightly

This Nov. 15, 2015 photo released by Killington Resort shows skiers at Killington Resort in Killington, Vt. More than $600,000 has been earmarked for the installation of new electronic lift drive systems on two gondolas at Killington, as well as communications lines, new haul ropes, component upgrades, and improvements at load and unload terminals for a number of lifts at both Killington and nearby Pico Mountain. (Dave Young/Killington Resort via AP)

Changing seasons paint the scenes Like rainbow trout in a hidden stream The whitetail deer, the tall pine trees I am a Michigan Man

I am, I am, a Michigan man Ask where I’m from, I’ll show you my hand . . .

— Mike Ridley from “Michigan Man”

OK, a bit sappy but so am I so that works.

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In our last installment, the year was 1985 and Debbie and I were living on a ranch on the doorstep of Yosemite. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss those days but for now, let’s jump ahead to 1994. A few things happened over the course of the next nine years. In 1987, we moved down to bucolic Sonoma County, just over the hills from the Napa Valley, I co-ran a start-up die-cutting outfit, we moved onto 30 acres in the redwoods and I bought a couple new Harley-Davidsons. Oh, and my son, Michael was born. But . . . that story will keep till another day.

Although we had been beyond lucky to lease a 90-acre ranch for 300 bucks a month and a 30 acre place where the wine country melds into the redwoods, for just a little more, Debbie and I wanted to buy a place of our own with some property. As lucky as we’d been at renting, when it came to buying, we soon discovered we’d landed in an area with some of the most expensive real estate in the Western Hemisphere. What to do?

“What do you think about moving back to Michigan where land is still real cheap, at least compared to here?” Deb asked me at dinner one night.

“Hey,” I answered, “Let the adventure continue. I’m up for it if you are, although I really like California.”

A few weeks later, she came to me with a real estate section from the local paper. “I still think we’ll end up moving back home,” she told me, “But before we do, let’s look at this place near Sebastopol.”

It was a three-bedroom ranch on five acres, in the country but on a very busy highway. We met with the Realtor the following afternoon.

“$275,000 for this place is a steal,” the woman chirped. “And you can have horses.”

We looked around. The place was in decent shape but it was nothing special. It was built, essentially, like a Michigan summer home. OK, it was a shack.

“Look at that view,” the realtor enthused, pointing to the rickety stables out back.

“I don’t know,” I mused. “As far as views go, if we’re going to cough up over a quarter of a million dollars, I think I should look out the window and see breasts pressed up against the glass.”

Debbie shot me the “stink-eye.”

After 14 years in California, it was back to Michigan for Clan Negi. A few years earlier, we’d picked up a single-wide on a couple acres in Mecosta County, just to use as a summer retreat for Deb and Michael, which ended up serving as a base of operations after we decided to move back permanently.

So in July of 1994, we loaded up the biggest moving truck we could find and, with me at the helm and Deb and Michael in our F-150, we made the three-day migration back to Michigan. After we arrived and stuffed our belongings into the trailer, I flew back to California to disentangle myself from the company and collect my Harley.

I’d been back in Sonoma County a couple days when I got a call from Deb. “I found an old farm I really think we should buy,” she said.

“Cool,” I answered does it come with a few acres like we planned?”

“Sort of,” she replied. It’s got, um . . . 80.”

“No way,” I said. “We don’t need that much land. Let’s not spend all our money at once.”

(Silence)

“Is that a crying sound I hear? Are you crying?”

“I don’t think so. Maybe. Don, this place is so beautiful. It’s got a big red barn and everything. And it’s in Remus”